


They came from the North

by Fearless_leaderr



Series: Norse Athelstan [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Low key athelnar, M/M, back story, norse!athelstan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4357136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fearless_leaderr/pseuds/Fearless_leaderr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We are in Lindisfarne. You are to learn about our one and only God. The true God" he had replied. Athelstan had watched him for a moment before lunging across the table, wrapping his hands around the boys skinny neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They came from the North

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble I wrote on tumblr and decided to post here.

He doesn't remember much of where he came from. He doesn't remember his father's voice or his mother's beautiful face. He doesn't remember the way he used to play with his four brothers, or how he would sit for hours reading to his sister. He doesn't remember their small house by sea, or the animals they raised there. All he remembers is the thick lull of an unknown language, spoken by strange men with brown cloaks and silver treasure before they ripped him away from everything he loved.

 

\----

 

The first time he awoke, he had stabbed a missionary in the leg. There was an outcry of that unknown language again as he struggled against an army of hands. He struggled and screamed and shouted, but he was still a child and he was overpowered easily enough. "Who are you? What do you want?" he had said, but he never quite caught their reply as one man brought a heavy book down on his head. When he awoke the next time, his hands were tied.

They taught him to speak their language. His teacher had been a strange, timid boy with an unusual haircut. "Where are we? I was never told," he had asked one afternoon, placing down his quill and frowning. The boy had looked up at him and smiled uneasily, fidgeting with the silver cross he noticed everyone carried. "We are in Lindisfarne. You are to learn about our one and only God. The true God" he had replied. 

Athelstan had watched him for a moment before lunging across the table, wrapping his hands around the boys skinny neck. "You worship a fake God. Our Gods are the only real Gods. Odin will strike you down!" he had shouted, as he was dragged out the room. He wasn't fed for three days, and he realised this must be Odin punishing him.

 

\----

 

He had long since stopped trying to escape. Every time he managed to get out of the building, a guard would always drag him back. There were no weapons around to use, no exits he could escape from. So he stopped trying and stopped resisting. The men here were truly pathetic, sniffling wastes of space. But they were not violent, and they were not unkind, so he wore their clothes and listened to their words. Over time he found himself even developing an interest in the acclaimed "God". Still, he refused to wear a cross and refused to acknowledge that their God was nothing more than a story. For this, he was locked in dark box for days on end, while the priests chanted prayers at him. Prayer for forgiveness and salvation. After the first time it happened he learned not to listen.

 

\----

 

They came from the North with Thor's Thunder lighting up the sea behind them. Athelstan was pulled behind the alter by a terrified priest, clinging at him and sniffling about the Devine punishment. He hadn't replied, simply pushed a bible into the man's hand and told him to be quiet as he listened to the dying sounds of the monks outside, the chime of the warning bell. It seemed like an eternity before the heavy doors swing open and the Northmen walk in, waving around bloody swords and talking about treasure. The sound of his own language was like music to his ears, and he all but launched himself into the arms of the first man he see's, eight years of despair finally catching up on him. He finds himself sobbing into this strangers chest, repeating "Thank Odin. Finally" in a mantra of breathless sobs. He felt the stranger stiffen, and he pulled away, aware of the swords now pointed in his direction. He wiped his eyes and the man he hugged looks at him with calculated eyes. The stranger is taller than him, with piercing blue eyes and long hair shaven at the sides, pulled into a neat plait resting against his back. "You know our language? How do you know our language?" he had asked. Athelstan had laughed then, aware he looked deranged, and he found himself not caring. "Well, it is a long story. When I was a child.."

 

\----

 

Ragnar sat down beside him on his vantage point, tugging his hair teasingly before looking out to admire the view. "How does it feel to be home again?" He had asked slowly, dropping his arm easily around his smaller shoulder. "I feel like I'm complete again" he had replied, linking their fingers together as the morning sun rose over Kattegat.


End file.
